Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder
by Lily Michelle
Summary: A newspaper article sparks hurt and paranoia. And Ron is rising to the top with his band The Wolves. That's all I'm saying. It is RHr, don't worry.
1. Wanted

Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Harry Potter characters. Unfortunately. But if JK Rowling want to sell them I wouldn't be averse to buying Ron. But until then I don't own them.

Author's Note: This is a story about Hermione running away and having to face her past. It will be from both Ron and Hermione's point of views. They'll switch but not necessarily every chapter. It shouldn't be too hard to figure out who's POV it is. Well, review if you like it. Hell, review if you don't. I can take a little constructive criticism. Just don't be blatantly mean.

Chapter 1: Wanted

It was 7:30 on a Sunday morning. Camilla Scott glanced at the clock and groaned. _The only day of the week I have to sleep in, and I still get up pretty early, _she thought. She looked around her room groggily. The morning sun was streaming in through the window and lighting up her modest bedroom. _Why did I leave the curtains open,_ she mentally scolded.

Seeing as she wasn't going to be able to get back to sleep, Camilla got up and walked to her vanity. Sitting in the chair she gazed into the mirror and ran her brush through her brown curls. _I love my hair now, _she thought, _it's so smooth, and curly. Not like that rat's nest of frizz it used to be._ She was right, the bush of hair she'd had in her school days had been replaced by loose curls flowing down two inches past her shoulders. While she had been embarrassed by her hair before she was now quite proud of it. After brushing both sides and the back an equal number of times, she donned a house coat and went into her kitchen.

Her apartment was a modest one, not too big, not too small. It was cozy and comfortable. It was her home. She liked it there. Even so, there was something missing. She could never quite put her finger on it. Every time she thought she'd figured it out, it would elude her. Sometimes nothing seemed out of place at all.

That was how she felt now as she gazed out the kitchen window at the beautiful sight that was Paris in the spring. Once again she congratulated herself on catching a corner apartment. She really appreciated the extra windows. She undid the latch and let both of the panes open outwards to let in the morning air. Paris was beautiful and Camilla breathed in the fresh air. It smelled divine. Over the smell of her own coffee, she could smell the different brews from the café next door and the delicious aroma of fresh bread from the boulangerie across the street. She looked over the rooftops at the Eiffel Tower, rising like a wondrous point on the crown of France.

Camilla was so entranced by the view she didn't see the tawny owl until it was almost at her window. When she did notice it she took a step back from the window and let the bird fly right into her kitchen. It decided to perch on the back of one of the chairs and it stuck out its leg.

Camilla untied the rolled up newspaper and placed eight bronze Knuts in the pouch on the owl's leg. Instead of taking off as usual the owl continued to shake its leg.

"What now?" Camilla muttered, a little annoyed.

She then glanced at the top of the newspaper. It read: the daily prophet, and in little writing underneath the title, 11 Knuts.

"Oh brother. They raised the prices again," Camilla moaned. She added three Knuts tot he pouch and said, "If they do this much more I might have to cancel my subscription." She stroked the owl's feathers and it was on its way.

__

I really should get an owl, she thought. _Then again who would I send anything to._

****

Him, a little voice in her head chimed in. that was the voice she always tried to suppress, which was what she did now.

She took another sip of her coffee, sat down at the table and unfolded the newspaper. She read the headline and nearly spit her coffee all over the front page. She swallowed and read it again. The words didn't change. It wasn't her imagination. There it was in black and white on the front page of an international newspaper. Her worst fear actualized. The headline read: **Hermione Granger, Who Is She? And Where Is She Now?**

"Why are they looking for me?!" Camilla, or Hermione, cried out. "What do they want?" Hermione looked close to a panic attack.

"Calm down. They can't find you. You are Camilla Scott now. Hermione Granger no longer exists. All they'll find is a dead end," she told herself firmly. In the six years since her graduation from Hogwarts that she'd lived in Paris she had taken to talking things out to herself. It was comforting in a way. Almost like a real conversation. Almost, but not quite.

After taking a few deep breaths, Hermione turned back to the paper and read the rest of the article.

****

Hermione Granger, Who Is She? And Where Is She Now?

Hermione Amanda Granger is the talk of the entertainment world in England, even though nothing has been seen of her in six years. Nonetheless, her name is on the tongue of every music mogul in Wizarding England, not to mention the envy of every young lady this side of Denmark.

The reason? Music's biggest and brightest rising star since The Weird Sisters, Ron Weasley. This fiery redhead, with a temper to match, has been climbing the charts with his band The Wolves and their skillful renditions of Muggle hits. Roger Turnwood, a notorious pro-pure blood was quoted saying "Who knew Muggles had such great music?" The vocal and instrumental talents of Weasley and his bandmates, Seamus Finnigan, Sarah-Lee Dreshler, and Brian Montgomery, have certainly changed more than one person's opinion of Muggles. 

But why would this handsome young rock star have us talking of a virtually unknown woman? Simple. Every time Weasley is interviewed and asked who any of his remarkably moving love songs are sung for, he answers the same way. Hermione.

According to research Hermione Granger was a classmate of Weasley and Finnigan when they attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. After defeating the Dark Lord in seventh year with Weasley and Harry Potter, Granger became fairly famous herself. However, almost immediately after their graduation, she disappeared. She was searched for but all attempts have been unfruitful. 

Apparently Weasley was quite heartbroken. Finnigan, the second guitar and backup vocalist of The Wolves, informed The Daily Prophet that "Ron was absolutely infatuated with her in school. Always sticking up for her from others but bickering with her himself. Honestly, they were like an old married couple. Everyone knew they adored each other. _They_ just didn't see it."

The Wolves were formed a few months after Granger's disappearance. Dreshler, the bass guitarist, claims "Ron needed an outlet for his emotions. So he started The Wolves." And millions of fans thank him.

This gorgeous rock sensation has a following of so many different groups, he is practically a household name. The public and the media follow his life eagerly, though anyone who crosses the privacy line will get a taste of his infamous temper. Although, he has been romantically paired with many people by the media, including his bandmate, Sarah-Lee Dreshler, and the top designer, former classmate, Parvati Patil, Weasley claims all stories are false. In an interview with this reporter he said, "There is only on girl for me in the whole wide world. And she disappeared." The elusive Hermione.

Though all other searches have come up empty-handed this reporter is going to dig until the whereabouts of this mysterious woman are found. For all fans of The Wolves and Ron Weasley, their new album For You, was released on Wednesday. It is a collection of various Muggle love songs, redone by The Wolves. Somewhere there is a young woman being soulfully serenaded to in this album, and this reporter won't rest until she is found. Lavender Brown, Daily Prophet.

~~~~~

Accompanying the article was a picture. In the picture a tall, incredibly, handsome redhead was getting out of a car and smiling and waving to the fans. The fans were mostly girls, the moving figures jumping up and down, and screaming, though there was no noise. The girl in the front of the shot was wearing a wedding veil and holding a sign that said MARRY ME, RON! The photographic Ron read it and looked slightly sad but then laughed. The caption underneath the picture said: Ronald Arthur Weasley has captured our curiosity and our hearts.

"Why is he doing this to me? Doesn't he know that I don't want to be found?" Hermione moaned. "If Lavender is anything like she was in school she'll find me. She always found out everything. Why can't he just say the songs aren't for anybody? I don't want to go back." 

****

He loves you. That's why, the little voice in her head answered.

"Why can't he just get over it?" she cried and buried her face in her arms. 

****

Why can't you? the little voice said.


	2. Unwanted Mail

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Harry Potter characters. Unfortunately. But if JK Rowling want to sell them I wouldn't be averse to buying Ron. But until then I don't own them.

Author's Note: This is a story about Hermione running away and having to face her past. It will be from both Ron and Hermione's point of views. They'll switch but not necessarily every chapter. It shouldn't be too hard to figure out who's POV it is. Well, review if you like it. Hell, review if you don't. I can take a little constructive criticism. Just don't be blatantly mean.

Chapter 2: Unwanted Mail

Ron Weasley woke up at 8:00 on Sunday to the tap, tap, tap of glass. Rolling over he saw a large gray owl rapping on his window. He swung his long legs out of bed and stretched. _I wish the post wouldn't come so early on Sunday's,_ he thought.

He opened the window to let the bird fly in. as soon as it was up about a hundred birds flew in, dropped their letters and flew back out.

"Bloody hell!" Ron cursed.

He paid the gray owl 11 Knuts for his paper, and grumbled about raised prices whilst it flew away as well. Tossing the paper on his bed he began to pick up the mess of parchment and envelopes on the floor.

"What in the world is all this racket?" Seamus Finnigan said sleepily, as he walked into Ron's room.

"Yeah, we were trying to sleep," Seamus' girlfriend and Daily Prophet reporter Lavender Brown added, looking just as sleepy as her boyfriend.

Ron looked up at his roommates from where he was kneeling on the floor.

"Sorry," he muttered. "Ruddy fan mail's all over my room."

Lavender and Seamus laughed.

"Aww, poor little famous man," Lavender cooed.

Ron scowled at her.

Seamus chuckled again and said, "There, there Ronnikins. We'll help clean up."

"I wish you'd stop calling me that," Ron groaned.

"Oh but Ronnikins," Lavender said, "Fred and George made it up and it's just so cute." She pinched his cheek and sat at the desk, sifting through the mail that was strewn about on it.

Seamus gave another laugh and joined Ron on the floor. He cleared a space and sat Indian style amongst the letters. He reached out, grabbed the nearest one, ripped it open and started to read aloud.

"Dear Mr. Weasley, 

My name is Rebecca Lewis. I am eleven years old and I'm your biggest fan. I think you are very handsome. My sister says you are hot. She's seventeen and she knows what she is talking about. I think you are the greatest singer in the whole wide world.

Love, Rebecca."

"Now that's a little over the top," Lavender remarked, "Has she heard everyone in the whole wide world sing?"

"Ha, ha. Very funny," Ron said dryly.

"No need to get shirty, Ron. She does think you're hot," Seamus grinned.

"Oh, that's just great!" Ron sarcastically raved, "Eleven year olds think I'm hot."

"Here's another," Lavender cried.

"Let's hear it then luv," Seamus called.

Lavender began reading and interrupted herself to add her own thoughts.

"Dear Ron, (Oh first name),

My name is Georgia Richards. I'm an eighteen year old from London. I'm your biggest fan (Funny how you have so many biggest fans). I love all you songs and I want to know if you're ever going to do a concert. I would be so excited if you did. You are my hero. 

Love Georgia.

Aww, Ronnikins. You're her hero. How cute!"

"Shuddup, Lav."

"I got another one."

"Open it Seamus."

"No, don't."

Seamus ripped the seal and cleared his throat. 

"Ahem. Dear Ronald."

Lavender burst out laughing. Seamus grinned and continued," My name is Lionel Davis. I'm sixteen years old and a prefect at Hogwarts. I really think your music is very good. I am most impressed by your skill. The thing I admire most about you is the amazing things that you and your friends did whilst at school. They were incredible. You saved the school and lots of lives many times. I was disappointed, however, to learn that you broke so many rules. They are there for a reason.

Respectfully, Lionel."

At this Ron let out a hearty laugh. "He sounds just like Percy!"

The mood lightened and they all sorted through the mail making fun of it.

"Oi! Seamus! This one's pink!"

"This one is sealed with a lipstick kiss, Ron."

"Look at this one," coughed Lavender, holding an envelope at arm's length. "It smells like Chanel."

"What's Chanel?"

"It's a kind of Muggle perfume, Ron. It usually smells good, in small quantities, but this is practically drenched in it."

They all laughed as Lavender threw the letter in the trash.

"Oh, what's this?" exclaimed Seamus as he picked up the paper, seeing the picture. "Looks like you made the front page again."

"Let me see," said Ron.

Seamus' eyes widened as he read the headline.

"UhI don't think you want to see it," Seamus said, hiding the paper behind his back.

"Gimme the paper, Seamus."

"No. Lav!" he cried passing the paper over to his girlfriend.

Lavender grabbed the paper from the other side of the bed and looked at the front page.

"Oh my God! They put my article on the front page," she pushed. "I thought it was good, but I didn't think it was that good!"

In her joy, Ron was able to run around and grab the paper. His face fell as he read the headline, **Hermione Granger, Who Is She? And Where Is She Now?**

He glanced over the article and looked up at Lavender with pain in his eyes.

"You wrote this?" he whispered.

Lavender didn't answer. She just hung her head and concentrated on an interesting spot on the floor.

"Are you really going to look for her?"

"Well" Lavender began, "Well, I was. But if you don't want me to I won't," she added.

Ron thought for a minute. Lavender and Seamus could see the conflict in his eyes.

"If you want to," Ron said hesitantly. "I guess you can. But don't bother her if you find her. If she doesn't want to be found just leave her alone, okay?"

"Sure, Ron." Lavender nodded. "Whatever you say."

They all stood there for a minute in silence. Ron, thinking about what all Lavender's search would mean and Lavender and Seamus looking at each other and anything else except Ron. They were afraid to break the silence. Finally, after what seemed like years though it was only two minutes, Ron sighed and came out of his daze.

"I'm" he started wearily, though he had just woken up, "gonna make some breakfast. And some coffee."

"But Ron," Lavender whispered, "You don't drink coffee."

"Well, I am today," he said and stalked out.

Seamus looked at Lavender with a look of annoyance.

"What?"

"Good one, Lav." Seamus put on a high squeaky voice and tried to sound like a girl. "You don't drink coffee." Then he went back to normal, "I mean really! Why would you say that? The man's depressed, because of your article, I might add. And you're telling him he doesn't drink coffee. When a man sees the love of his life's name splattered on the front page like that he's entitled to drink whatever he bloody well wants to."

"I know that Seamus," she said, exasperated. "I was just mentioning it."

" A hell of a lot of good that did," he cried, throwing his hands in the air. "I'm going to get some breakfast, as well," he added and walked out, leaving Lavender alone in Ron's room.

__

Well, she thought, _Seamus definitely inherited the Irish temper. Cool one minute, hot the next, and the next off to eat._

She was just about to follow her boyfriend when an owl tapped on the window. She answered and found a letter form her boss, Tobey Flaversham, the editor of The Daily Prophet. It read: Lavender! You must write another article on Hermione Granger. The readers loved it. We sold out three printings. SOLD OUT! THREE! I want you to do Past Hermione and Present Hermione articles. You are going to find out everything about her and put it in the paper. We're going to make a bundle off that girl. Got to run. Say hello to that newsmaker Weasley for me. Tobey Flaversham PS- Tell your boyfriend I said hello as well. What's his name? Samuel? Sean? Oh well, you know who I mean.

__

Oh boy, Lavender thought. _Looks like I'm going to get to know Hermione a whole lot better._


	3. Flashbacks and French Poetry

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Harry Potter characters. Unfortunately. But if JK Rowling want to sell them I wouldn't be averse to buying Ron. But until then I don't own them.

Author's Note: This is a story about Hermione running away and having to face her past. It will be from both Ron and Hermione's point of views. They'll switch but not necessarily every chapter. It shouldn't be too hard to figure out who's POV it is. Well, review if you like it. Hell, review if you don't. I can take a little constructive criticism. Just don't be blatantly mean. And thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far. Alayna, I'm so glad you like my portrayal of Lavender. I've read a lot of stories that show her different ways, and I actually have some stories in the works that show her differently. Thanks to Lady of the Dark too, my faithful reviewer. You review everything. I love you, but in a totally platonic way. ( lol ) J I'm really happy to get so much positive feedback. It makes me feel so happy. If I didn't mention you it doesn't mean I don't still love to hear from you, it's just this author's note is getting ridiculously long and I still have other stuff to say. This chapter doesn't have much action but I thought you should get to know Hermione a little better and see how much she misses Ron. The flashback just gives you a little insight into her past. Don't worry I'll get to why she left, but not for a while.

Chapter 3: Flashbacks and French Poetry

Hermione enjoyed her day off, despite the disturbing beginning. She went out, did some shopping at the market and walked around some parks. She visited her favourite spots, Notre Dame Cathedral and the Louvre. She came back from her day at 5:00 in the afternoon, feeling refreshed and happy. She sunk into a chair in front of her fire. Just as she was getting comfortable, a tapping on her window forced her up. _Of course, as soon as I get comfy, the mail comes,_ she thought. She let the owl in and read the letter.

Chère Mademoiselle Scott, 

Mme. Chantal fell ill today and we need you to teach her pre-Beauxbatons class. They are 6 years old and will be very well behaved. They are learning about French poetry at the moment. Come to St. Antoine's at 8 tomorrow morning and I will brief you further. 

Merci, M. André Charlebois

Hermione sighed and walked to her bookshelf. She was going to teach a pre-magic school class, and she was going to be prepared. In France children go to school before they are eleven and St. Antoine was one of those schools. The students learn things like languages, math and history. Hermione's job was as a substitute teacher and textbook writer for St. Antoine, Beauxbatons and several other pre-magic schools in Paris.

__

Hmm thought Hermione, running her fingers along the titles. _French poetry, French poetry. Here it is._ She took a book with a green cover from the shelf. She brought it over to the chair and cuddled in again. She looked at the book and ran her hand across the cover. _Les Poems d'Amour_. Poems of Love. All the pages were filled with words of love written for Rosaline and Anna-Louise. She remembered the last and only time a poem was written for Hermione Amanda Granger.

~~~~

"Honestly!" A seventeen year old Hermione stormed into the common room.

"Back early, Hermione? Did Madam Pince close the library?" her best friend Harry Potter asked.

"No, but I can't concentrate down there. Parvati and Lavender are down there giggling over charms to make them look good tomorrow," Hermione fumed, flopping into an armchair.

"Why? What's tomorrow?" Harry asked looking up from his chess game with Ron. Ron's queen had just destroyed Harry's remaining bishop.

"Don't you look at a calendar, Harry?" Ron asked him astonished. "Even I know tomorrow is Valentine's Day."

"WHAT?!"

"Harry you really should pay more attention to things," Hermione scolded.

"Umm, I've got to go upstairs." Harry quickly got up and knocked over his chair.

"What? We're not finished our game. I was about to wipe the board with you," Ron complained.

"I have to make a present for Gin-, somebody," Harry quickly explained and rushed to the stairs.

Ron watched his retreating friend and asked, "Did it sound like he said Ginny?"

"No. Here Ron. I'll play you," Hermione tried to change the subject.

"Alright." It worked. Hermione righted Harry's toppled chair and Ron set the pieces up on the board. They chatted about all sorts of inconsequential things from Quidditch to homework. By the time Ron had captured Hermione's king it was late, and they were the only ones left in the room. Giggles filtered down to them from the girls dorms.

"Are you tired, 'Mione?" Ron asked as he stretched.

"Yeah," she yawned. "But I don't want to go up yet."

"Parvati and Lavender annoy you a lot lately," he said as he sunk in next to her on the couch.

"Oh, it's just that Valentine's Day is tomorrow. They're getting all worked up. I don't think I could stand listening to them brag about their boyfriends."

"I'll sit up with you then."

"That's okay Ron. Really. You can go to sleep if you want."

"No, I'll stay here. You just tell Ronny what bugs you about your roommates."

Hermione gave him a quizzical look. He was being very sympathetic. Uncharacteristically sympathetic, actually. She considered telling him she fancied him. _But that's ridiculous, because I don't. He's my best friend, for Pete's sake._ Instead, she relayed some gossip Parvati had given her, quite unwanted.

"Did you know Dean is getting Parvati 16 long stemmed roses and a kitten?"

"Yes," stated Ron. "They're up in the dorm right now. The kitten got at one of my maroon sweaters. Now it's its bedding."

"Oh, I'm sorry Ron. Your mother worked so hard on those."

"It's okay. I never liked maroon. Tell me more about your roommates," he said, leaning back and putting his arm on the back of the couch behind her.

"They're not really that bad," she sighed. "It's just that sometimes Inever mind. Seamus wrote Lavender a poem for Valentine's, you know."

"Yeah. He asked me for some rhymes. Sometimes you what, 'Mione?" he asked, looking into her eyes. When he looked at her like that there was nothing she wouldn't tell him.

"Sometimes Ifeel left out. Like I have nothing to do with that world of romance and stuff." A small sob escaped her lips. "No one's ever written me a poem, Ron. And probably no one ever will."

"Oh, 'Mione. Sure they will."

"No they won't. I'm not good enough for a poem. What'll they write? She reads books and she's smart? That's not poem material."

Ron wrapped his arms around her as she cried into his chest and he gently stroked her hair.

" 'Mione, don't cry. You know that's not true. Anyone would want to write a poem about you. You're amazing. I promise someone will write you a poem."

"How do you know?" She raised her tear filled eyes to his clear, confidant, comforting ones.

"I just know," he whispered.

He rocked her in his arms for a minute. She had never felt as complete as she had at that moment. After a bit, he pulled away and wiped away her tears with his thumb. She looked up at him and he smiled.

"It's late. You should go to sleep. Parvati and Lavender are probably sleeping already."

Hermione smiled weakly and nodded. He gave her a squeeze and whispered, "Sweet dreams."

"You too, Ron." Then, she went up to bed.

The next morning Hermione woke up well rested and feeling better after her talk with Ron. He had been so sympathetic and understanding. She felt fresh and ready for the day, even if she got nothing for Valentine's Day. When she went down to the common room Harry and Ron were waiting. Though Hermione felt rested, Ron looked dead on his feet.

"Ron!" Hermione cried, concern showing in her features. "You look like you didn't get a wink of sleep."

"He didn't," answered Harry. "I woke up at 7 and this guy was just nodding off at the desk."

"I had some writing to do," Ron said between yawns.

Hermione narrowed her eyes and looked at him suspiciously.

"But you finished all your assignments," she stated.

"Not for school."

"Maybe he's got some new girl," Harry chimed in.

Ron shook his head but Hermione's heart dropped. _What if he does have a girl? That's probably what it was, and Ron's just too much of a gentleman to talk about it. Oh, why didn't I just kiss him last night?_ Even she was astonished by her wish to kiss her best friend. _Must be some Valentine's Day reflex or something, _she thought.

"Let's just go eat," Ron said, offering Hermione his arm.

"Good idea," agreed Harry and he offered her his arm as well.

Hermione laughed and accepted both arms as the trio mode their way down to breakfast. 

The Great Hall was a dazzle of paper hearts floating from the ceiling and roses piled all over the House tables. Every once and a while a house-elf would appear out of nowhere an recite Valentine's out loud in high squeaky voices. A house-elf appeared and read "A love sonnet for Draco Malfoy from Blaise Zabini" whilst Ron was drinking his orange juice, which made him laugh so hard juice came out his nose and got all over Harry. But the best part of the morning was about to come. Ron, Harry and Hermione had just gotten up to leave when Dobby appeared in front of them.

"Dobby is very happy to see Harry Potter, sir, and his friends Ron Wheezy and Hermione Granger. Dobby is looking through Valentine's and is finding this one Dobby wants to deliver especially."

"Dobby," Harry started, "If this is for me, I don't-"

"Valentine not for Harry Potter, sir," Dobby interrupted. "Those coming later. This Valentine is for 'Mione Granger. I is reading it now. Ahem..

To my best friend 'Mione Granger.

From Ron Wheezy

You said no one would write you a poem,

I promised someone would.

So I wrote you one myself.

I hope you think it's good.

You are my best friend,

And Harry's actually.

But this poem is not from him.

It's from yours truly.

You've been my friend right from the start,

Or at least our first Halloween.

Without you I'd probably be dead,

Smashed by that giant Queen.

I'll be there for you for all of time

Like you've been there for me.

If you ever need a helping hand,

I'll give you mine for free.

When we've finally grown up,

Maybe by twenty-four,

I know that dozens of men

Will line up at your door.

Whether they stay or you make them leave

You will always have me.

A shoulder to cry on, a friendly ear,

Or just some company.

'Cause men may come and men may go,

but friendships last forever.

And I'll be here to guide you through

The rough and stormy weather."

With that Dobby gave a bow, handed the parchment to Hermione and disappeared.

Hermione just stared at the paper in her hands. The whole Great Hall awaited her response with baited breath. After what seemed like hours she looked up at Ron.

Tears glimmered in her eyes as she softly said, "You stayed up all night to write me this for me because I said no one would ever write me a poem?"

Ron nodded and Hermione let out a sob. She threw herself at Ron and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"That's-the nicest-thing-anyone-has ever-done-for me," she exclaimed between sobs. "You are the best friend a girl could ask for." She gave him another squeeze then let go. With an enormous smile on her face she picked up her book bag and skipped gaily out of the Great Hall.

~~~~

Hermione smiled sadly at the memory. It really had been the nicest thing to happen to her. It still was. Nothing half as nice as that had happened to her since then. She opened the poetry book and a piece of parchment fluttered onto her lap. She looked at the words on the paper Dobby had given her six years ago. _Where are all the men, Ron? Where are they? And where are you?_ She shook her head at that thought. It was her fault he wasn't here and she knew it, but that didn't explain the men.

She sighed and looked at the page Ron's poem had marked. The poem was called "Plaisir d'Amour" by Jean-Pierre Claris de Florian.

Plaisir d'amour ne dure qu'un moment,

Chagrin d'amour dure toute la vie

J'ai tout quitté pour l'ingrate Sylvie,

Elle me quitte et prend un autre amant

Plaisir d'amour ne dure qu'un moment,

Chagrin d'amour dure toute la vie

Tant que cette eau coulera doucement

Vers ce ruisseau qui borde la prairie,

Je t'aimerai, me répétait Sylvie;

L'eau coule encore, elle changé pourtant!

Plaisir d'amour ne dure qu'un moment,

Chagrin d'amour dure toute la vie

Hermione repeated the message to herself, _Plaisir d'amour ne dure qu'un moment, chagrin d'amour dure toute la vie. Love's pleasure lasts but a moment, heartache lasts a lifetime._

"And don't I know it," she told the night air

Author's Note 2: If you're wondering why Harry walked down to breakfast with Hermione and Ron and not with Ginny, it's because Ron would probably beat him to a pulp if he tried to. Harry and Ginny were keeping their relationship a secret at that time. They'll have met later and Harry will have given her whatever it is that he had made. Not that that's relevant to this story. There will be minimal Harry/Ginny. So no need for the anti-H/G shippers to get offended. 

Author's Note 3: The poem that Ron writes for Hermione is mine but "Plaisir d'Amour" is not. It actually is a real poem by Jean-Pierre Claris de Florian. I swiped it from my French textbook. Please don't sue me for it. It's not like I'm making money anyway. Okay, so review. That's all I have to say. Seriously, that's it.


	4. The Class

Disclaimer: I do not own Hermione. Bugger. I do own her situation, M. André Charlebois, Michelle and Mme Chantal. Unfortunately, they will not make me millions of dollars as JK's characters have made her. Double bugger.

Author's Note: I know this is a short chapter and nothing very exciting happens but I thought I should at least give you something. Ron seems to be alluding me. I know he's somewhere in London, but I can't find him and I don't know what he's doing. If I didn't know better I'd think he's cast an Unfindable charm on himself. Of course, good ole Ronny wouldn't do that to me. If you find him tell him I want to talk to him. If you know where he is or what he's doing tell me. I'm open to suggestions. Anywho, thanks to everyone who reviewed. _Mina_, yes, I know cliffhangers are evil, but hey, I like them. This chapter may not make you feel any better about the cliffhanger but it's something. _Lady of the Dark and devilgurl121_ I'm glad you like the poem. I thought it was good to and I was very shocked that I wrote it. (I'm not fishing for a compliment don't worry. I was truly shocked.) _fey, _thanks, I like Seamus and Lavender as well, and Lionel does sound pretty funny in writing doesn't he? If I didn't mention you don't worry I still love to get your feedback. So have fun with this chapter.

Yours in ink (more like bytes),

Lily Michelle

Chapter 4: The Class

The next day Hermione woke up at seven to get ready for her eight o'clock meeting. She apparated to St. Antoine's five minutes early. She stood and looked at the building. It was brown brick and looked like it had been a convent or something in the past.

_It probably was, _she thought, recalling her History of Magic classes.

She went in the front doors and walked down the high-ceilinged hall to the headmaster's office. M. André Charlebois was a balding man in his fifties, and he was quite friendly. Hermione usually enjoyed her meetings with him. Still the sound of her footsteps on the hardwood floor echoing through the hall was unnerving. She reached M. Charlebois' office and knocked on the door.

"Oh, Mademoiselle Scott, bienvenue, bienvenue." 

"Bonjour Monsieur Charlebois," Hermione greeted.

"Oh, 'ow many times 'ave I told you, call me André," the robust man said.

"Then you must call me Camilla," Hermione responded looking down at André. He was short, only 5'2". Hermione reached 5'5" in heels and always felt tall around André, even though she wasn't.

****

Ron always made you feel short, but you liked it.

Hermione frowned at that annoying little voice and focused on André.

"Ze class is learning French poetry at ze moment as I told you in ze letter. Zat is all you really need to know. Just do roll call, assign some poems and let zem do ze rest," André explained. " 'ere, let me show you ze classroom."

André led her out of his office and to a classroom down the hall.

" 'ere it is. Room 215. Ze class comes in at 8:30. Zat gives you fifteen minutes to prepare. Mme. Chantal sent a list of instructions for you. It is on ze desk. Au revoir."

André left and Hermione sat down at the desk and read the list. Assign this poem, have them answer these questions to be handed in tomorrow. Easy stuff. Hermione looked around the room. It was an average classroom. Twenty desks, twenty chairs, art a blackboard. Nothing special. She spent the rest of her time writing Mme. Chantal's directions on the blackboard and looking through her notes.

At 8:30 the bell rang and students started coming in. When they were all seated Hermione began roll call. She started with 'Antoine, Louis' and had gotten all the way to the last name when she hesitated.

"We-Weasley, Mi-Michelle," she stuttered.

" 'ere."

A little girl in the front row sat smiling with her hand raised. Hermione looked at her closely. She recognized the bright blue eyes but this girl had long, white-blond hair. Hermione frowned a bit.

"Is zere a problem, Mlle Scott?" Michelle asked.

"I am trying to place you. You do not have the Weasley red hair," Hermione explained.

"I know. My papa was disappointed at first but he loves my 'air now," the girl informed Hermione.

"Your father? Which Weasley is he?" Hermione asked. "No wait, I know! It's Bill. You're Bill Weasley and Fleur Delacour's daughter."

"Yes, I am. Do you know zem?"

"I did," Hermione said sadly. "A long time ago."

"Zey will be 'appy to 'ear I 'ave met you."

"They won't remember me. Don't bother telling them." _It's not like they'll recognize my name, since I changed it, _she thought. 

Hermione turned to the class. "Now class, Mme. Chantal has left you this poem for you to read. There are a few questions she wants you to answer for tomorrow," she said pointing at the blackboard.

"Oui, Mlle Scott," the class cheerily said, and started in on the work.

Hermione spent the rest of the class looking at Michelle Weasley and wondering what else had changed since she'd left.

Author's Note 2: See I told you. Not very exciting. By the way I know I said they are six and you may be astounded that they are doing French poetry at six, but it is very simple poetry and they can read a little and write a little. Just suspend your disbelief and imagine they are a little advanced for their age, if you want. Now review. You can use that button at the bottom. Happy Easter!

PS- The bugger/ double bugger bit is in One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. Cheswick says it. It is a very good book. Really funny, but really sad too. We just did it in English.


	5. The Mauling

Disclaimer:  I don't own Harry Potter or the song.  You all know who good ole Harry belongs to, and I do mention who owns the song.  I don't want to say it now.  That'll ruin the surprise.

Author's Note:  Okay, I'm super sorry that it took soooo long to update.  I had mega trouble with this chapter.  Ron wouldn't tell me what he was doing and then The Wolves wouldn't tell me what song they would sing and AAHH!!  It was ssoo much trouble.  But here it is.  I've got a pretty good idea for the rest of the story but there may a long wait between this chapter and the next one.  Not as long as the wait between 4 and 5 but pretty long, since I haven't even started writing it yet.  Just hang on and it'll come eventually.  In the meantime, enjoy this chapter!!

Chapter 5: The Mauling 

            Ron sat outside of _Florean Fortesque's Ice Cream Parlour_, eating a sundae, and watching passer-by's through the lenses of his sunglasses.  It wasn't really bright enough for them but he didn't want to be recognized.  _I've had enough publicity after yesterday's article,_ he thought.  _The last thing I need right now is a crowd of giddy little teenage witches throwing themselves at me.  I really sympathize with Harry._

            He thought about his best friend.  Harry had always tried to stay out of the spotlight and it seemed that as an adult he had partially succeeded.  Harry now enjoyed a cushy, desk job in the Ministry of Magic's Auror Department.  The-Boy-Who-Lived had grown up to be The-Man-Who-Shuffled-Papers.  His job consisted of sorting through the missions and assigning them to the Aurors.  Harry had been one himself, but he had moved up quickly.  He had been the Head Auror for two years, when the last Head had retired.  Harry lived a peaceful life now.  He didn't get swarmed in the streets anymore.  Ron missed that feeling.

            He found it ironic that he had wanted Harry's fame when they were at Hogwarts, but now that he was famous and Harry wasn't in the spotlight, Ron longed for Harry's relative anonymity.

            Ron looked at the crowded streets of Diagon Alley and saw a group of teenage girls exiting _Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions_.  Ron was turning back to his sundae when he heard a scream.  He turned to the noise and saw one of the girls with her hand over her mouth and the other pointing at him.

            "Good Lord, it's Ron Weasley!" she yelled.

            _Bloody hell,_ thought Ron.  He got up quickly, but the mob of screaming girls had already swarmed him.  They were all screaming and holding things out for him.

            "Can you sign my hat, Ron?"

            "Ron!  Can you sign my Wolves CD?"

            "Here's my number Ron!  Call me!"

            "Ron!  I love you!"

            "Ron!  Marry me!

            "Ron!  Can you sign my Hogsmeade permission slip?"

            "Can I have your sunglasses, Ron?"

            Ron was utterly overwhelmed.  He had no idea where to go or how to get rid of these girls.  He would have apparated but the girls were hanging off him and he couldn't risk bringing one of them with him.  He was at the end of his rope when he heard a familiar, comforting voice.

            "Oi!  You there!  Clear off!  Yer suffocatin' him.  Give the poor man some breathin' room."

            The girls stopped screaming and calmed down somewhat as the towering bulk waded through them.

            "Hagrid!" Ron cried, very relieved.

            "Come on, Ron.  Let's get away from these fans o' yours."

            Ron followed his old friend closely and looked back at the girls.  They looked slightly confused and definitely disappointed.  Ron sighed.  He'd never get used to the fans.

            "How are yeh, Ron?" Hagrid asked whilst they walked.

            "Oh, er, I'm fine.  Apart from being mauled by teenage girls, that is."

            Hagrid laughed.  "Well, yer career certainly is doin' well."

            "Yes, very well.  What about you, Hagrid?  What's new with you?"

            "Oh, yeh know.  Same as usual.  Teachin' classes, doin' things fer Dumbledore."

            They chatted and caught up over a pint at _The Leaky Cauldron_.  Hagrid happened to be in London on an errand for Dumbledore and he was just picking up flesh-eating slug repellent for the school pumpkins.

            Throughout their conversation, Ron noticed Hagrid casting odd glanced at him when Hagrid thought Ron wasn't watching.

            "Hagrid," Ron said hesitantly.  "You don't get the Daily Prophet, do you?"

            "Er…Yes, I do," the half-giant said nervously.

            "Then, for the love of Quidditch, ask your question and get on with it!" Ron exclaimed.

            "Well, I, er, wanted to know if it was, er, true."

            "The article about 'Mione?" Ron said, shoulders slumping.

            Hagrid nodded.

            Ron sighed.  Everything always came back to her.

            "Yes, it's true, Hagrid.  I still love her and Lavender's going to look for her.  Is that all?"

            "I suppose.  Would yeh like ter talk about it?"

            "No thanks, Hagrid."  Ron glanced at the clock on the wall.  It was five to one.

            "Bloody hell!" Ron cried.  "I've got to go, Hagrid.  My band practice starts in five minutes.  I'll see you around."

            "Owl me later, Ron.  I'd like ter see yeh and Harry again."

            "Sure thing, Hagrid.  Bye."

            With that Ron rushed out of the Leaky Cauldron to a safe apparating point.  When it was his turn he apparated to Vampire Records, the label he was signed under.  He walked through the doors into the lobby.  He nodded to the young secretary, who giggled and blushed (though Ron didn't notice), before moving to the far end of the room.  He looked at the row of doors and found the one for the rehearsal studio.  He opened the door and stepped over the threshold.  He walked down the hall and looked out the window.  The people looked like ants from the fifteenth floor.  Ron liked Portdoors better than those Muggle esclimators, or whatever they were called.  Like portkeys, Portdoors, transported the person to the place they wanted to go, in this case the fifteenth floor of Vampire Records.  They were faster than esclimators and didn't involve standing in a box that hung from a few wires.  He shook his head to regain some focus and quickly made his way into The Wolves' studio.

            "Hey guys!" he called as he opened the door.

            "You're late, mate," Seamus said.

            "Sorry, I got mauled by screaming fans.  Then I ran into Hagrid.  We got to talking and I lost track of the time," he explained.

            "I wish I had that problem," Brian said.  "Being mauled by a bunch of girls.  That would be amazing."

            "It's not as great as you'd think," Ron replied with a wry smile.  "Let's just get on with rehearsal."

            The other three nodded and got into position.  They put their headphones on and after a quick tune up Ron nodded to Jacob, their sound guy.  The Wolves always recorded their practices, just in case they did something perfect.  Which didn't happen that often, but better to be safe than sorry.

            "What should we start with?" Sarah asked into her microphone.  The question repeated itself in their headphones.

            "Why don't we try that country song we've been working on?" Seamus asked.

            "Good idea," Brian said.  Sarah nodded and Ron shrugged his shoulders.

            "Whatever."

            Brian counted them in and everyone played their parts.  Ron sang the first line perfectly before stopping.

            "Sorry guys.  I can't do this one today.  It's just a little too depressing.  How about we do something louder?  Maybe where I get to yell?"

            "Sure, Ron," Sarah said.  "Whatever you say.  You're the lead singer."  They'd all seen the article and they understood he had some frustration to get out.

            "What song, then, Ron?" Brian asked.

            "Er, how about…Somewhere Out There?  You know, our new Our Lady Peace cover?"

            "Yeah sure, mate.  Sounds good," Seamus said.

            This time when Brian counted Ron was really into the song.  He put all his emotions into the words.  He even changed one or two of the words so they applied more to him.

"Last time I talked to you,  
You were lonely and out of place.  
  
You were looking down on me,  
Lost out in space.  
  
Laid underneath the stars,  
Strung out and feeling brave.  
  
Watch the red orange glow,  
Watch them float away.  
  
Down here in the atmosphere,  
Garbage and city lights,  
You've gone to save your tired soul,  
You've gone to save our lives.  
  
You turned on the radio,  
To find me on satellite,  
I'm waiting for the sky to fall,  
I'm waiting for a sign.  
  
All we are

Is all so far.  
  
You're falling back to me,  
The star that I can't see.  
I know you're out there,  
Somewhere out there.  
  


You're falling out of reach,  
Defying gravity,  
I know you're out there,  
Somewhere out there.  
  
Hope you remember me,  
When you're homesick and need a change.  
I miss your curly hair,  
I miss the way you taste.  
  
I know you'll come back someday,  
On a bed of nails I'll wait.  
I'm praying that you don't burn out,  
Or fade away.  
  
All we are 

Is all so far  
  
You're falling back to me,  
The star that I can't see.  
I know you're out there,  
Somewhere out there.  
  
You're falling out of reach,  
Defying gravity,  
I know you're out there,  
Somewhere out there.  
  
You're falling back to me,  
The star that I can't see.  
I know you're out there.

  
Oh, you're falling out of reach,  
defying gravity....  
I know you're out there,  
Somewhere out there.  
  
You're falling back to me,  
The star that I can't see.  
I know you're out there,  
Somewhere out there.  
  
You're falling out of reach,  
Defying gravity, yeah,  
I know you're out there,  
Somewhere out there.  
  
You're falling back to me.  
  
Well I know,  
I know.  
  
You're falling out of reach.  
  
I know..."

            As the music faded, they all realized that they'd done it perfectly.  They stood a while in silence before Ron signalled for Jacob to cut sound.  Once he did, they all took off their headphones.  Sarah grinned.

            "Guys, I think that was the one."

            "Yeah, Sar.  It was," Ron said, smiling weakly.

            She didn't take offence at his lack of enthusiasm.  Ron was always like that after a particularly emotional song.  After a few minutes, Jacob's voice came on over the intercom.

            "Alright, guys.  I'm ready for the next one."

            Ron nodded and they all put their headphones on again.

~*~*~*~*~

            They ran through their other songs and two hours later they emerged from the rehearsal studio.

            "Bloody hell, my fingers hurt," Seamus complained jokingly.

            "Oh stop you whinging, Finnigan.  Everyone's fingers hurt," Sarah said.

            "Well, _my_ wrists hurt," Brian countered.

            Ron chuckled weakly at their antics.

            "I'll see you later, guys.  I'm going home.  Coming, Seamus?"

            "Nah, I've got a date with Lavender.  We'll see you tonight."

            Ron shuddered at what he would see if they did see him.  "I hope not.  Last time I had nightmares for a week.  I think you emotionally scared me for life.  I didn't even know girls could bend like that."

            Seamus turned red, as the rest of the band laughed.  "Oi!  Shut it, you!"

            Ron laughed a little.  "I'll see you tomorrow, Seamus.  Bye, Sar.  Bye, Brian."

            With that he walked out of Vampire Records and apparated home.  He made himself an early dinner and watched a little T.V.  Seamus refused to live without it so they had one in the sitting room.  Their flat was a strange collection of Muggle and Wizarding things due to Seamus and Lavender's half Muggle upbringing.  Ron tried to enjoy a rerun of some American show, The Simpsons or something.  The comedy just didn't get him, though.

            After he cleaned up his plates, he went to his room and flopped down on the bed.  As he stared at the ceiling, Hermione's face materialized in his mind's eye.  He closed his eyes and sighed.  _Why won't you get out of my head?_ he thought.

            **Because you love me, Ron.  You'll always love me, a voice in his head replied.  It was his conscience and it sounded just like Hermione.**

            _Great.  Now my own thoughts sound like her._

            Ron sighed again and wondered where she was and what she was doing.  Had she seen the article?  Did she care?  But most of all he wondered, _is she thinking about me like I'm thinking about her?_

Author's Note 2: So how did you guys like it?  Good?  Not good?  Tell me in a review.  Anyway, as I said there may be a longish wait for the next chapter but on the bright side (get ready for the shameless plug), _Evelyn Malone and the San Grasal_ is coming along splendidly.  I also finished _Love Runs Its Course_.  It's a good four chapters.  Not much action, mostly romance/drama-ish type stuff.  I'm working on about twenty million stories right now so please don't get too impatient.  There will be updates for everything.  No worries.  Tah tah for now, dahlings! XOXO


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